Battle Wounds
by LeiaOrganicSolo
Summary: Far more gently then anyone would have ever assumed possible for the bumbling ghost hunter, Jack pressed the soaked cloth against a gash running along Danny's ribcage. Oneshot. Some father son bonding. Birthday gift for DarkEcoMuse!


_**Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday DarkEcoMuse... Happy birthday to you!**_

**A rather long oneshot for a rather (totally) awesome person. Contains some adorable Jack and Danny interaction and a little bit of acceptance and bonding along the way.**

**Or a totally overwhelmed Jack and an incoherent Danny.  
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><p>Jack Fenton cursed, while his large fingers shifted through the contents of his refrigerator. "Come on, come on. I know you're in here somewhere..." Where did all the fudge go? He <em>swore<em> that there was a full container of it in there earlier that afternoon - unless of course a ghost stole it.

"Damn those ghosts."

Inwardly Jack winced and took back the harsh words; okay, so maybe _all_ ghosts weren't bad. Just most of them.

But old habits _do_ die hard apparently, and Jack had found himself mentally scolding himself all day for his bitter thoughts.

It had been three weeks since the Disasteroid incident and yet the man was still having trouble adjusting to the fact that Danny was a ghost - er, half ghost. Not to mention he was _Danny Phantom_, the same Danny Phantom that Jack swore to rip apart, molecule by molecule.

For the love of God... He threatened to destroy his own_ son_.

Jack attempted to swallow the funny feeling in his stomach- _self loathing? guilt?_ -and continued his search for the evasive fudge.

Suddenly he bolted up, as a resounding _bang!_ carried through the house. It sounded almost as though a door was slammed shut - _Maddie?_

"Who's there? I've got the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick and I'm not afraid to use it!" Abandoning his quest for fudge, Jack peered into the living room. Light seeped from the open doorway in which a silhouetted person stood, appearing to be leaning heavily on the frame.

"I said who's there?"

"Ju-Just me Dad," a quiet voice mumbled - the words were almost slurred. The room was shrouded in total darkness as the front door was gently shut - a sharp contrast to how it was opened. Jack blinked rapidly, his eyes attempted to adjust to the pitch black.

"Danny?"

The youth nodded, but then realized his father couldn't see him, so mumbled a tired, "Yeah."

"Are you... You alright bud?" Jack asked awkwardly. Funny, how he still couldn't get used to the fact that his only son had been a ghost hunter for years. "Who ah - who was it this time?"

"Just Skulker. I'm o-okay. I'm gonna go to- to bed now."

Something wasn't right. Danny's words were shaky, and jumbled. "Hold on a second Danny. Lemme make sure you're alright."

Unbeknown to his father, Danny stiffened at the words, and forced to speak through a pounding migraine. "Re-really Dad I'm fine." He moved as quickly as he could towards the stairs, arms wrapped around his chest. He nearly stumbled - thankfully he caught himself before it could be heard.

Jack frowned; something was definitely wrong. "It'll only be a second Danny boy. If I could just find that light switch.._._"

The living room was flooded in light, and Jack was surprised to find Danny standing motionless on the stairs. "Danny?" Inwardly the halfa cursed, his escape plan foiled. He could try and run upstairs, but he knew he would only be followed; if he could make it up the stairs to begin with. Trying to look as normal as possible he slowly turned to face his father.

Jack wasn't fooled.

Blood and ectoplasm was soaked through the front of his t-shirt, and the stain was rapidly growing. Various cuts and scraped riddled up and down along his arms, splayed across his cheek, weaving into complicated patterns that could only have been formed by ghostly weaponry. And his eyes looked almost - _empty?_ Jack swallowed the lump in his throat as the seconds dragged on.

_Danny shouldn't be the one getting hurt. _

It wasn't until the halfa began to sway from blood loss and exhaustion that Jack was snapped out of his shocked state. "Lab. Now." His tone was far more serious than it had ever been before, but it barely contained the panic in his words.

Danny sighed, but painfully through his hazy state staggered to the basement as his father frantically gathered supplies.

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><p>"Alright kiddo," Jack announced softly, dipping the thin fabric into the basin of antiseptic. His nose unconsciously upturned at the strong scent. "Now this might-"<p>

"Sting a little," Danny interrupted tiredly, rubbing his palms into his eyes and yawning. He forced a strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know Dad."

Wincing a little at the tone of his son's voice- _he shouldn't have to know what antiseptics felt like against an open wound_ -Jack nodded. "Sorry. I forget sometimes that you... You know." The words died off of his tongue and he stood awkwardly for a minute, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. The medicated solution began seeping into the sleeves of his nightshirt, so Jack continued. "You ready?"

Danny grunted in response, eyes falling shut with impatience and exhaustion.

Jack took that as a yes.

Far more gently then anyone would have ever assumed possible for the bumbling ghost hunter, Jack pressed the soaked cloth against a gash running along Danny's ribcage. The only reaction the halfa gave when the cold, stinging substance came in contact with his skin was a sharp intake of breath. Otherwise he remained silent as Jack worked to clean the ugly wound. For a while the only sound in the lab was the whirring ghost portal and Danny's slow, uneven breathing.

Eventually the blood and ectoplasm were cleaned away from Danny's chest so Jack moved on to his face and arms.

Neither Fenton spoke.**  
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_Drip, drip, drip._

Jack ignored the drops of antiseptic that trickled from the cloth and onto the floor; he would take care of the mess later.

Eventually pleased with his work the older man tossed the rag back into the basin, and went to grab some bandages. Struggling to open the package, he was surprised when Danny's trembling fingers brushed his and grabbed the packet from him.

"You hafta open 'em from the bottom," the youth muttered, handing the now freed guaze back to his father.

"Right," Jack replied. "Right."

It took two tries for him to successfully wrap the bandages around his son's wound. With them now secured, Jack moved to the pile of medication he had layed out ontop the table where Danny sat. He dug through for something that would numb the severe pain Danny surely was feeling - not that his son would admit it.

When had scraped knees turned into bloody battle wounds?

Pills crashed into each other and the side of their bottles as Jack searched with dead weight fingers. "Dammit, now where did those pain killers go?" he muttered, irritation growing as more and more time wore on.

"Righ' here Dad," Danny murmured, plucking the bottle of pills without so much as a glance. He peered curiously at the container, lips moving silently as he read the tiny label. "Three tablets every... Every four hours." Jack felt his face blanch; it should have been impossible for his son in his wounded state to find the bottle hidden among the others, let alone read it in the dimly lit lab.

"Er, good job son. Take 'em out. I'll get you a glass of water." The man stumbled over to the small sink in the back corner of the basement - exhaustion began to overtake him. Jack glanced at the clock; bright red letters screamed 3:47 at him. He swallowed a moan and instead filled a small cup with enough water for Danny to swallow the pills.

Going back the way he came, Jack looked worriedly towards the teen as his eyes began to rapidly shut. _Should he let him sleep?_ Or should he keep checking him for more injuries?

"Danny? You awake son?"

The halfa started, nearly falling off of the countertop. "Huh? Mm'wake."

Jack wasn't convinced. Handing his son the cup of water he instructed him to swallow the three, tiny tablets. After Danny had done so, the ghost hunter went to clean up the mess scattered across the lab.

Danny's hoarse voice broak through the silence.

"Dad?"

"Yes son?"

"I see- I see _stars._"

Hastily glancing up towards his son Jack moved closer. "Do you have a headache?"

Danny nodded solemnly, wincing a little at the movement.

Gently taking his face in his hands, Jak looked curiously into Danny's eyes, and wasn't surprised to find them unfocused and dazed.

"Danny, did you hit your head?"

The youth narrowed his eyes in concentration and appeared to be thinking long and hard.

"Ayedon_remem'er_."

"...What? Danny, you're mumbling son."

"I-I don't... I don'know," he repeated more coherently but not without effort. He gingerly touched a temple and grimaced in pain. "Uhhmm. Maybe ayemighta h-_h-hitmehhead_?"

Jack bit back a groan as he tiredly rubbed his own temples. "Alright. Just- just sit right here. Can you find any acetaminophens?"

"..._wha_?"

This time Jack couldn't stop the sound of frustration from tumbling past his lips. _Christ,_ what were they teaching kids in school nowadays?

"_Acetaminophens_ Danny. Like, Datril. Tempra. Tylenol. Anything?"

"Oh. Mm'kay. M_m'sorry_."

Vigorously running his fingers through his hair Jack let out a tired breath as the sound of bottles clicking together resumed once more. Screwing his eyes shut he let out another sigh when Danny murmured a quiet, "N-no."

Stumbling through the dim room once more, Jack made his way back to the sink and to the medicine cabinet that sat above it. He must not have grabbed all the medication earlier.

"Dad."

Jack barely looked up as Danny spoke wearily, instead he focused on finding the Tylenol that would hopefully help the halfa's concussion. "Hold on a minute son."

"Dad." Danny repeated, his raspy voice rising in volume. He gripped the edge of the cluttered desk with trembling fingers. Much to his dismay, the teen's hand phased through the thick metal and he struggled to remain upright.

"Just one more second-"

"_Dad_."

Hearing the urgency in his son's voice, Jack pulled away from the cabinet, but not before grabbing- _at last!_-the Tylenol. "What's wrong Danny?"

"Ayedon_'eelgood_." The halfa shot out, a strange expression stealing over his face.

"What?" Jack looked worriedly towards his son - _should he get a doctor to check out his head?_

"_Ayedon't._ Feel. _Good._"

Jack groaned inwardly. "What do you mean?" He moved to close the distance between them, and noted the greenish hue to his son's face. "Where don't you feel good?"

"My stomach. _Hurts_."

"Well it's probably just-" But the rest of what Jack Fenton had to say was cut off as Danny leaned down and hurled the contents of his stomach onto the linoleum floor, spattering his father's bare feet and pajama bottoms as well. Jack had no response so instead looked towards his pale, shivering son who offered a heartfelt apology of "Mm'sorry," and then proceeded to puke all over him again.

Jack facepalmed, bottle of pills cluttering to the ground.

It was going to be a long night.

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><p><strong>(Why do all my DP fics end in Danny vomiting or seriously injured? No seriously. Why is that? But in case you couldn't tell Danny did in fact have a concussion. I received one last fall and while it was very minor, my parents still couldn't understand half the stuff I said and I thought my head was going to explode. Word to the wise: protect your head at all costs. Or you'll end up puking on your father like poor Danny here.)<strong>

**This was pretty much one of the funnest things to work on. Like ever. A little bit of angst, a little bit of humor, a lotta bit of Danny and Jack bonding...**

**Not to mention it's for like one of the coolest girls I know. DarkEcoMuse this one is for you. Because your awesome. And amazing. And I don't know what I would do without out you, so don't ever change cause you're perfect.  
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**~LeiaOrganicSolo**


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